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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25763542">Changelings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aishiterusan/pseuds/Aishiterusan'>Aishiterusan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Arcana (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Art, Babies, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:33:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25763542</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aishiterusan/pseuds/Aishiterusan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Medea the apprentice suddenly finds herself in the position of caregiver to a young girl that bears a striking resemblance to her. Confused and without memories to guide her, Medea searches for answers as to the strange girl's origins. The more she learns, the more she comes to question herself, as well as Asra. </p><p>Could Medea truly be this child's long-lost mother? And if so, how did no one know? </p><p>The questions of parentage, familial bonds, and things stronger than love are raised as Medea tries to parse out just what she wants and who she wants it with. </p><p>However you think this ends; it probably won't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Asra (The Arcana)/Original Female Character(s), Julian Devorak/Original Female Character(s), Portia Devorak/Nadia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Strange Hairs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Heyo! So you can guess what this fic is about. I'd love to hear any critiques/criticisms/comments you might have! Thank you!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Last night had been a very long night indeed. So long, in fact, that Medea scarcely cared to ever awake from the long put-off slumber she was currently in. Medea snuggled closer into the inner part of the settee and slipped her feet between the cushions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled, half-awake and half-dreaming, knowing that she had all day to dally. Though the shop did grow lonesome without Asra there to lighten it, Medea found herself appreciating his absence. He always kept such strange hours and was always tinkering with something when he was up, that it was hard to get a good bit of uninterrupted shut-eye with him around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The day was full of possibilities, full of dreams, and Medea could rise and open up the shop whenever she wished. Though she had a feeling she wouldn’t be leaving this settee until late, </span>
  <em>
    <span>late </span>
  </em>
  <span>afternoon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What luck she had, getting the shop all to herself after such a hair-pulling night (and there had been a goodly amount of actual hair-pulling). Medea rubbed her scalp absentmindedly, fingers brushing over the sore spots where she had plucked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her grey and white hairs, rather like a hydra, only came back in greater numbers with every plucking session she undertook. And the little white hairs didn’t even have the decency to grow back at the same rate as her natural auburn locks. No, her white hairs always returned within a night, though last night Medea could swear they returned within only an hour! And always more numerous and more noticeable than before!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea wondered what sort of sorcery could have wrought such a damnable fate as this. There truly was no alleviation, no way to cover or hide or pluck the grey away. And with every grey and white hair came the loss of an auburn one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, the source of her affliction </span>
  <em>
    <span>had to be </span>
  </em>
  <span>magical in nature, for what else could explain the uncommon growth of the white hairs. They grew unnaturally fast and could not be dyed or glamoured or even hidden, for they would always find a way to peek out from under her cap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Asra only laughed when she brought up the subject of her hair. He said that it was simply how it was, that some things cannot be changed… And that some things he did not </span>
  <em>
    <span>wish </span>
  </em>
  <span>to change, even if he had the power to do so. Medea thought otherwise, though, as she knew Asra could not be bullied into doing anything he did not explicitly wish to. He really quite hated being bullied, and she had found that he would purposely avoid undertaking tasks that he felt he was being “nagged” into completing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Medea had found her hair and its unnatural white streaks to be one such task. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, at least I’ll never go bald, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Medea thought to herself, sinking further into her cocoon of blankets and throw pillows. No, it was unlikely she would ever go bald, as the grey hairs never seemed to fall out on their own. They only grew and grew until they overtook the surrounding auburn tresses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But I will look like an old maid in only five years time, </span>
  </em>
  <span>thought Medea, more sourly this time. Yes, with her grey hair and old looking, swamp green eyes, she would look very old in a very short amount of time. And she had only just gotten her life back! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She still felt so young, so ill-prepared but also so ready for the world. Love, family, legacy -- she wanted it all! But she was still so far away and she was all too suddenly aged beyond her years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea sunk deeper and deeper into her blankets, hoping to sink deeper into her dreams as she did so. She would rather like to relinquish reality, seeing as she’s already thoroughly depressed herself without ever even waking up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Medea… Meh de aaaah… </span>
  </em>
  <span>sang the wind, the elongated syllables of her name brushing against her ears like fairy kisses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea swatted them away. The sing-song voice laughed. Medea scrunched up her face and burrowed into the settee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Medeaaah, </span>
  </em>
  <span>are you still sleeping? What are you doing down here?” The voice was light and airy and sounded more amused than he ought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea’s eyelids flew open in an unceremonious awakening. She quickly flipped over to face him, erecting herself while also still remaining cocooned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing back so early, Asra?” she asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled down at her like the sun. “I’ll be leaving shortly, don’t worry.” His eyes then dropped to the floor and the nearby coffee table, both littered with tomes and empty glasses as well as a few half-finished plates. “Sorry to intrude. You’re obviously nesting,” he laughed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea felt some color rise to her face. “You said you’d be gone for a week, did something happen?” </span>
  <em>
    <span> I would have cleaned if you had told me you were coming back early. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was a tad messy, she’d give him that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>More than a tad, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought, picking up a plate of half-eaten cake from the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>be gone for a week,” he said, picking up some of the empty glasses and walking them over to the downstairs sink, “but I just needed to pick up something. I’ll be leaving as soon as I find it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Find what?” Medea called back to him, taking a bite of cake. It was still good. Still </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something,” he answered cryptically, leaving Medea less than impressed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon he was by her side again, looking over her “nest,” as he so aptly called it. Medea suddenly felt even more embarrassed. Couldn’t he give her the decency of tidying up a bit before he went tearing through her mess? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had always been rather blase about boundaries, at least as long as Medea could remember. She supposed it came with the experience of feeding, bathing, and clothing her for the first months of their life together. Medea only had vague recollections of those times, but she knew they happened and she knew Asra had taken care of her for the first three months of her new life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Recalling the vast emptiness she felt during those months sent a shiver down her spine. She had been nothing more than a walking, breathing corpse then. Almost like a baby, only less. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How could Asra </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be so nonchalant about </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, about </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He had practically raised her until she was capable of human thought processes again. Still, it made Medea rather uncomfortable, though she hadn’t the faintest idea why. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” he said then, breaking her from her thoughts, “there it is!” And with that he knelt to the floor to retrieve a tome Medea had dragged out the night before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you were looking for?” Medea said, somewhat abashed. It was a book of look charms. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He must think I’m even vainer than I truly am.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He beamed at her again and plopped down beside her on the settee. The settee was short and plush and so they crowded together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he answered, “though I do wonder just what need you would have of such a text. Don’t tell me you were trying to enchant yourself, Medea.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes, but also no--I wasn’t trying to enchant my looks necessarily. Just my hair…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His amused smirk disappears at that and he all but rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, not this again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea feels her face shift at the affront. She was so tired of being dismissed by him. “I wasn’t asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Asra. I was trying to figure a way out to do it on my own. You’re always telling me to try new things and improve my craft, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He exhales tersely. “Not like this. Concerning yourself with vanity is a fool’s errand. You’re better off accepting yourself as you are.” He then said, more quietly, “Or else, getting rid of all your mirrors…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A small giggle popped out of her mouth at that and Asra smirked in turn. Medea slapped his shoulder lightly, feigning offense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How dare you, sir,” she mocked, “I cannot believe you would ever think I’d even entertain the thought of giving up my vanity. Quite an easy thing for someone like you to say!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someone like me? Oh, whatever could you mean, my Lady?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asra truly was one of the most beautiful people Medea had ever laid eyes upon. From his cropped, starlight locks to his beautiful eyes and his rich, dark skin. He looked eternally warm, always lit in golden hues. He was entirely too beautiful and he knew it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’s vain now?” Medea shook her head. “Trying to get me to tell you how gorgeous you are. Well I won’t do it. You’re hideous. Worse than the things the fishermen drag from the bottom of the sea.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asra gasped, his hand shooting straight to his heart. “How you’ve wounded me! Wounded me more than you’ll ever know! More than I’ll ever tell!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea couldn’t keep her laughter tucked away inside now, as it burst out of her mouth and took over her body. “I’ve spoken only the truth! And now I know why it is you’ve come back to collect such a book. It is because you are ugly, and I am sorry to see it, my dear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugly indeed,” he said, sliding the book into his satchel, “And hungry as well,” he finished and fingered a bit of frosting off the top of Medea’s cake. He grinned as he tasted his stolen treat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea turned away from him, still playing the game, “Well, I surely won’t cook for you. Begone, foul magician, I have not caught up on my rest yet.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Asra seems to have tired of their game, for when he sees her his face drops and he returns to a more serious tone. “Yes, well I ought to be leaving,” he said, getting up. “Have a good day’s rest, my lovely apprentice. I shouldn’t be back to pester you for a few days yet.” He smiled down at her, but it was tinged with something other than happiness. Longing, perhaps? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t really think she was turning him away, could he? Medea felt her stomach drop. Of course she liked having the shop and the upstairs apartments to herself, but she loved having Asra around. His smile, his good nature, his warmth. It was so easy to trick herself into not missing him when he was gone, but when he was back it was even harder, for he kept reminding her of all the reasons she wanted him to stay. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Medea suddenly said, darting to her feet. “Stay, please. It’s good to see you, Asra, it really is. I’m always forgetting things and you’re always finding them. It’s hell when you’re away.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His expression flitted from surprise, to hesitance, and then to contentment. He smiled at her and ruffled her unkempt bed-head. “So forgetful. I’m starting to think it just might be your problem,” he chuckled, but it was a dry, almost unconvincing chuckle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea took his hand and held it, thinking that her words might have swayed him. Of course, just as she started to think that, he opens his mouth again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I still have to go. There are things I need to do. But I’ll be back the day I originally planned. And then I promise to stay for a long, long while. There are things here I need to do as well.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t count on it,” Medea said and watched as his smile faded into a frown. “But I’ll still be here, waiting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at her the very same way a person looks at a half drowned kitten. If there was one thing she hated more than his outright dismissal, it was his pity. Medea could feel herself growing hot at it, though with embarrassment or anger, she could not tell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally he said, “Does your hair really bother you </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> much?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea could only stare at him for a few moments before she found the words to speak. “Yes,” she replied simply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asra nodded, closing his eyes. “I see,” he said, “well, I can do something about</span>
  <em>
    <span> that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, at the very least, so that my going doesn’t lease </span>
  <em>
    <span>such</span>
  </em>
  <span> a sour taste in your mouth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her bewilderment must show on her face because she sees him crack a smile before he returns to his serious magician act. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can glamour you,” he said evenly. “Though this particular spell comes at a cost.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What cost?” Medea immediately blurted out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asra breaks character again at seeing how eager Medea is, but he soon resumes the act. “A kiss. This particular glamour requires a kiss to work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A kiss?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. You must close your eyes, though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea did what she was told without thinking, instantly closing her eyes and waiting for the kiss that would change her fate. Perhaps that was too grandiose a description for such a simple spell, as well as such a simple gesture, but it felt quite incredible to Medea. She was too enraptured in the joy of it all to even question why Asra hadn’t ever brought this glamour up before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A shiver went down her spine as he placed his hand at the base of her head, guiding her face forward and then…down?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then she felt it. His soft, perfect lips on the middle of her scalp. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He let go of her and when Medea opened her eyes she saw him beaming down at her. She also saw, to her horror, the existence of white and grey strands of hair still speckling her braids. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asra must have seen her horror too, because he said, “The glamour doesn’t work on you. Only on others. You may see them, but all I see right now is a beautiful young woman with auburn hair.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea felt her face light up. She pursed her lips still. “Well you should have told me it was going to be a kiss on the head. I would have bent down to make it easier for you. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> taller, after all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We are the same height,” he almost snapped. He was rather strange about their height. But he soon composed himself back to the princely, fairytale-esque magician persona he liked so well. “And why, what sort of kiss were </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> thinking, my dear? Surely not a kiss on the--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! I wasn’t thinking anything! Nothing at all!” Medea snapped back. Yes, she had had enough of his games now. All she wanted to do was to see him out and off on his long trip and then go back to sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pushy, pushy,” he said, as Medea all but thrust him out the back door. “I might just stay after all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll enchant the locks!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I didn’t realize what a great and mighty sorceress I have before me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is my house!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I--” was all Asra managed to get out before Medea closed the door on him. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>&gt;&gt;&gt;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea slept until late evening the day. A few knocks had come from the front door throughout the day, but Medea did not answer any of them. She did not feel enough of a person to do even that. If anything, she wished to be an amorphous blob. A shape. A thing. Not a person, though. Not someone with strange feelings and fears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t stop thinking about the person she had been before she became a person. The person that Asra had taken care of for months on end until he tinkered enough to make her something resembling human again. She couldn’t stop thinking about that girl, who had to hold his hand at the market lest she lose her way or get carried off somewhere. The girl that could scarcely feed or bathe herself. The girl that required help in everything she did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Who had she been to Asra before she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>girl? She knew that if Asra had his way he’d be travelling day and night. Perhaps he would have already left Vesuvia, never to return. But with her here and still his apprentice, she tied him down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t his </span>
  <em>
    <span>companion</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>lover</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or even his </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>; she was his </span>
  <em>
    <span>responsibility</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And wanting to be more (or less) than that was… a mistake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea tried to tear her thoughts away from that vicious truth, but she could not seem to do it and all her efforts only made her more lethargic. So she stayed on the settee all day, dreaming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dreaming, that was, until she heard the loud, troubled knocks on the back door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Asra, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought, in both alarm and joy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The knocks kept coming, though, even as she got up. Surely the knocking was only a precaution. Asra had a key, of course, and if not a key, he had enough magical prowess to unlock the very shop he did business in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Knock. Knock. Knock.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea began to doubt that the person on the other side of the door was really Asra. No, she was certain it wasn’t. But she was drawn to the door anyway, drawn to whatever lay waiting outside for her to find. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She flung the door open, the motion almost frantic, and to her surprise she found no one. The utter silence of the scene allowed Medea to appreciate just how loudly her heart was thumping in her chest. She breathed a sigh of relief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That sigh was shortly rescinded, though, when she heard two, tinkling syllables. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mama?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>And here's some art I did for Medea just for reference :D</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Strange Visitor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This child… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How could she put this… Well, the child was obviously hers. There was no doubt. Their features were identical, almost frighteningly so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cat-like swamp green eyes, a head of thick, curly auburn hair, and even the same soft, pensive smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It could not be denied: this child was of some relation to Medea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The child, being specifically a girl-child, bore one striking difference, however. She had no white streaks in her hair. Not even a single strand of her messy pile of curls was grey. Medea had checked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The child’s second most striking feature was her lack of speech. She could say a few things, mainly words composed of two syllables or less. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mama</span>
  </em>
  <span> seemed to be her favorite, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But surely the poor thing was merely confused. Medea couldn’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> possibly </span>
  </em>
  <span>be her mother. That was something one </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> forget. Or if she had, Asra would have certainly told her! He had known her before the amnesia, before she lost her personhood. And he would have known if she had had a child. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that didn’t explain why the child bore such a keen resemblance to her, nor why she was dead set on calling Medea “Mama.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The child also clung to Medea like a daughter would their mother. The little girl was always touching her or within arm’s reach of her and she even cried if Medea tried to go somewhere she could not follow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By what strange circumstances had this child come to be? And by what strange circumstances had she been carried to Medea’s doorstep? Did the child even know?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea decided to start with the easy stuff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name little one?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl only shrugged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea gave an exasperated smile. The girl looked to be about four or five, perhaps even six if she was uncommonly small for her age. Surely she was called something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do your parents call you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl shrugged again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No one calls you anything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl’s slack expression then turned to ire, but the anger wasn’t directed at Medea. No, instead the girl stared off into the distance, face full of fury, and pointed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You!” the girl said, jabbing the air with her index finger. And then as quickly as the anger had come upon her it was gone and she was looking up at Medea innocently again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me?” Medea questioned, patting her chest with her hand so to give the child some clue as to what the word referred to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl shook her head fitfully and repeated the same production she had before, pointing at nothing and no one and saying, “You!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You?” questioned Medea, pointing at the girl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea’s eyes widened as she suddenly put the pieces together. “You!” she said excitedly, “They call you, ‘you?’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl nodded energetically, obviously pleased over being understood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And as quickly as the excitement of the discovery had overtaken her, it soon left and Medea felt rather empty over the whole thing. “They call you, ‘you?’” she said again, though more to herself than the child. The child nodded all the same, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why…” Medea trailed off, feeling her indignation boil beneath her skin. Who could ever treat a child so poorly as this? Neglect them so that they never learn their name? Frighten them so that they think that anger is equal parts of their address as their true name?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Medea was wrenched from those unsavory thoughts by the sensation of clammy hands wrapped around her calf. She looked down to see the little girl staring up at her, smiling like she had a secret to tell. Medea couldn’t help but smile back at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You hungry?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl nodded happily. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>&gt;&gt;&gt;</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It shouldn’t be a surprise that such a child was indeed very hungry. Almost exceedingly so. Three full pancakes, a plate of eggs, and half a loaf of bread later and the child was still ravenous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea would have made something else for the child to eat--a real, full-fledged dinner perhaps--but breakfast items were the only things she knew how to cook on such short order. Again, she found herself longing for Asra’s guiding hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would have known just what to do about the situation. Could have even explained things to Medea. Told her just why this girl appeared, looking so much like her and calling her </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mama. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A less agreeable thought then entered the apprentice’s head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he knew exactly who this girl was and from whence she came…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, Medea told herself. He wouldn’t do something like that. Hide something like this. Something so… so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>integral </span>
  </em>
  <span>to Medea’s personhood. Asra wasn’t like that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was secretive and strange and more than a little veiled about some of his intentions, but he had never treated her with unkindness. Never hurt her with his half-truths. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea and he both knew that remembering her past brought her a great amount of pain, as with every sliver of a memory came a splitting headache to make it all disappear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But even so...Asra wouldn’t have left her child to rot in the gutter. He wasn’t so callous, so malicious as that, even if he somehow thought separating the two of them was for the best. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So that left Medea with only two explanations. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Either the girl wasn’t actually hers and the resemblance they shared was some sort of trick…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or the girl was indeed her daughter and Asra somehow never knew about her existence…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Medea could feel her heart beating in her throat as she explored the possibility of the latter option. The former was vastly more likely, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it had to be</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Even if the girl smiled and laughed and looked the same as her </span>
  <em>
    <span>(exactly the same) </span>
  </em>
  <span>it had to be some sort of glamour, some trick of the light, or even just a fancy genetic freak. The girl was merely a far off relative, or even a near one, and the uncanny resemblance they shared was coincidence. But that obviously didn’t explain why the child insisted on calling Medea </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mama. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I just look like her Mama, that’s all, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Medea then concluded. If the girl was a perfect, bite-sized copy then her mother must be the spitting-image of Medea. It was only right for the girl to be confused, being at such a tender age and all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But all the fanciful rationalization in the world couldn’t put to rights what Medea </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the girl. It was almost like a string had been looped around her ribcage and then attached to the girl’s own. Medea was inexplicably drawn to the child. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea had always liked children, always smiled and humored them if they passed her by. She even sometimes daydreamed of a life where she was a regular shopkeeper with a family. It was hard to imagine a partner in such a life, but the children always came easy. Playing with them, teaching them, watching them grow as she nurtured their interests. It all seemed so delightful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What she shared with this girl was entirely different, though. Medea could feel the bond tugging at her chest and she wondered if this is what “tugging at one’s heartstrings” truly meant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even if the girl wasn’t hers, wasn’t any relation to her at all, Medea now felt responsible for the girl’s well-being. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea didn’t know if she was even capable of providing her with the life she deserved, though. What could Medea offer, being the half-baked apprentice of a half-here, half-there magician? And that wasn’t even mentioning the palace intrigues she had recently been roped into. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That didn’t change the fact that the girl needed a home, though, and a loving caregiver to go with it.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That settled it then. Medea would find this girl a suitable living situation, and failing that, she would undertake the massive responsibility of rearing the child herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&gt;&gt;&gt;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Child-rearing, to put it simply, was easier said than done. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea should have known. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the brightside, however, at least the child had a proper name now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yuno. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s what the girl took to referring to herself as after being told, “You, no!” so many times. Medea felt rather wretched over the name’s origins at first, as the girl had only being staying with her a full two days at that point and already had been admonished enough times to take it as her new name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yuno, however, seemed to like her new name quite a bit more than the old, informal </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>though. Sometimes she would just jump and dance while exclaiming “Yuno! Yuno! Yuno!” if she was especially excited. She mostly did her Yuno Dance while Medea was preparing dinner. The idea of food seemed to put Yuno into fits of mad joy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The name grew on Medea as well. It was a nice enough name, and obviously easy for Yuno to pronounce, being only two syllables. And Medea had never called Yuno’s name in any kind of malice, even when she was just saying “You, no!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had used the name in times of alarm, such as when she found Yuno playing in Asra’s collection of potions. How terrible it would be have her child turned into a frog a mere two days into meeting her! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Medea corrected herself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not my child</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She couldn’t just start calling the child hers without any proof. The child certainly had a Mother, and maybe even a Father too, but Medea was neither and referring to herself as such (even in her own mind) was dangerous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had no idea what sort of situation the child had come from. Yuno could have been lost, separated from her loving parents during the plague outbreak and carried off to some child mill. It was an all too common practice. Lost children ferried to a work house masquerading as an orphanage. Children made to work and toil all their days until they either ran away or became too hard to control. Then they were on their own, left to wander the streets of Vesuvia in search of food and shelter, doing what they must to survive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The very thought of Yuno coming from such a place quite rankled Medea. Yuno deserved so much more than a life of trouble and toil, a life of misery and loneliness. She deserved to be where children played and doting Sisters truly loved their charges. Or else she deserved to be with a family, be they adoptive or real. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea wasn’t sure if Yuno deserved to be with her, just yet, nor did she know what Asra would even say when he finally made it back home. But Medea had already made up her mind to leave Asra out of this decision. It was her house, after all, and Yuno was currently her charge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yuno’s steadfast stance that she was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>in fact</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Medea’s daughter, complicated matters of course. As when Medea took Yuno out in search of a suitable living situation. When Yuno wasn’t clinging to Medea’s arm or her leg, she wrapped around Medea’s torso as Medea carried her on her hip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The true difficulty arose when Medea tried talking with the head Sister of the nearest orphanage. Medea had known that the uncanny resemblance between she and Yuno would cause a bit of a problem, seeing as who would believe her when she said the girl simply showed up on her doorstep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, Medea wore a veil over her face when she visited such place, keeping the lower half of her face obscured as she spoke with the sister. She had tried to glamour herself as well, but that only succeeded in turning her skin a funny shade of red which made her look as though she had a very bad sunburn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you say the child was left on your doorstep? How very peculiar,” said the Sister. “And you have no idea who did it or for what reason?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Medea answered truthfully, though she felt quite like a liar with Yuno’s swamp green eyes staring up at her own, “I haven’t a clue. I run a shop, you see, so I suppose it could have been a patron that knew me, but I can’t say for certain. Even if you can’t take her in, could you at least tell me who might, or where she could have come from?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Sister looked rather perplexed at Medea’s requests. Obviously the Sister was of the mind that Yuno was indeed her daughter and Medea was merely trying to foist her off onto someone else. But Medea’s strange questions didn’t make much sense in that context. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Sister sighed. “I could, perhaps, look into fostering. I know of an older couple that have been looking for a boy to help share in their work. Maybe I could convince them a girl would be just as good. What is the child’s name and her approximate age, if you please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea looked rather scandalized at the Sister’s statement. That wasn’t what she wanted at all! Why couldn’t Yuno be given over to a family that would love and value her as one of their own? Why must she be made to work for her place? She was only a child, after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see… Well, if it’s not too much ask, could you possibly refer me to one of your sister asylums,” Medea answered. “And not a work house or some sort of mill calling itself a children’s asylum, but and true to the word orphanage, mind you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>&gt;&gt;&gt;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yuno and Medea visited three other orphanages while in search of Yuno’s forever situation, all of which leaving Medea quite defeated in her task. Though none defeated Medea more than the last, which was actually quite the idyllic foundation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a small, rustic manor house on the outskirts of Vesuvia. There children played freely, climbing trees and chasing one another on the plush, green lawn. A perfect place, really. The orphanage had cropped up in the wake of the plague as a safe haven for children who lost their parents. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman who financed the asylum had actually been a victim of the plague itself, or at least a victim so much as in having to watch her three children all succumb to it. Her heartache led her to refurbish her summer home as a place for orphans to grow freely and happily, away from the dirt and grime of the city. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The place was called Pleasant Garden, and it was quite pleasant indeed. Medea couldn’t have dreamed up a better place for Yuno to grow up. Yuno was much less enchanted, however. Yuno remained strapped to Medea’s leg the entire time. She also seemed a fair bit more anxious this time than she had been at any of the orphanages they visited before. It was almost as though she sensed Medea’s contentment with the place and what that contentment spelled for Yuno. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, what a darling little girl! And what cute braids!” said a familiar voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Could it be?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea spun around to find Portia standing there behind her. She looked almost as shocked to see Medea as Medea was to see her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Por--” Medea began, but was cut off by Portia’s much louder:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Medea?!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yuno stood beside Medea for a moment, looking between the two startled women. She then settled back on Medea and said a quiet, “Mama?” which snapped both women back to reality. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Portia stared down at Yuno, eyes wide as saucers. She pointed. “Wait, is that your--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! No! I know what it looks--” Medea then cut herself off, now feeling rather silly with her veil still on. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doesn’t make much of a difference now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought, ripping it down and continuing, “I know what it looks like, but I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>her mother! Or at least, I don’t think I am!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mama?” said Yuno again, not helping. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Portia’s eyes flitted from Yuno and back to Medea. “So you’re saying you don’t have a secret love child you never told me about?” Somehow she sounded more incredulous than she looked, which really was quite a feat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m-- Wait, why are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> here, Portia?! Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one with the secret love child I don’t know about!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” Portia snapped, her face already as red as her hair. “And don’t change the subject! What are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing here?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I asked you first!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I asked you second!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Portia and Medea were dangerously close to starting a heated debate over the topic of whose right it was to ask the question they both wanted an answer to when another contender entered the fray. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Portia,” said Nadia, walking up behind her, “what’s going on?” but she scarcely needed an answer once she noticed Medea and her supposed love child. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” said Nadia. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Meeting of the Minds (And Spilling of the Tea)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nadia was much more understanding than Medea had originally thought. She was a tad skeptical, but only so much as Medea was of herself. The mystery of Medea’s not-daughter seemed to truly intrigue her, maybe even more so than it did Medea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The countess took a long, measured sip of her tea, pretending not to notice as Yuno swiped another biscuit from her plate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The child favors you, there is no uncertainty in that, and for whatever reason she seems to believe you are her mother.” Nadia looks to Medea. “Are you quite sure you have never seen this child before? Not even at the marketplace or in your shop? Perhaps she laid eyes on you from afar and from there sprung her attachment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Medea shook her head, arms almost instinctively tightening around Yuno as the girl sat in her lap. “I’m certain I would have remembered seeing her, her looking so--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“--Similar to you? Yes, I’m certain I would remember too if I was ever in your shoes. Though she still could have seen you without you ever seeing her. I wonder, though, whatever came of her parents.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The plague, most likely, m’Lady,” answered Portia. “That’s what happened to most of the children here. Orphaned or separated.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three women sat in the drawing room of the manor house, seated at a white patio table nearest the largest window. Nadia’s eyes seemed to stray to the outside garden, watching the children as they giggled and played and gave chase. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Nadia answered, taking another sip of her tea. “I imagine that’s the fate of many orphans now. And a most cruel one at that. It is a terrible thing to grow up without a mother’s love.” Nadia redirects her iron gaze at Medea. “What do you intend to do then? With the child I mean. Do you intend on raising her?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea feels her face grow hot at the question. Just what did she intend to do with Yuno? Was she really intent on leaving Yuno here at Pleasant Garden? It was a wonderful place, of course, but Yuno was already so attached to her, and Medea hated to say it, but she was attached to Yuno as well, whatever she was to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea finds herself looking to Portia for direction but Portia seemed as taken off guard as she. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m the right one for it, m’Lady. I don’t know anything about raising children and I’m sure I’d do a lousy job at it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense,” Nadia answered nonchalantly. “No one’s born knowing how to be a parent. They all have to learn. Some are admittedly worse than others, but all of them start at the same place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“B-But I’m not Yuno’s mother! A-And even if I was, I’ve been a horrible one seeing as I didn’t know she existed until three days ago!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mama?” Yuno said once again, not helping the “not a mother spiel” Medea kept giving. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nadia only smiled. “Only you know what’s best for yourself as well as this girl. It’s your choice, whatever you choose.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea wanted to shout, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know it’s my choice! I just don’t know what to do! </span>
  </em>
  <span>But she knew that that would only prove to be incredibly unhelpful, if not offensive. This sage wisdom Nadia was doling out wasn’t at all what she was looking for. And what was Nadia doing here anyway? Medea knew Portia was here because Nadia was, but that didn’t answer the Nadia question at all. Nadia had never struck Medea as being especially fond of children. Even now she still seemed so stiff and regal around Yuno. She did seem interested, though, but Medea was sure that was more due to Yuno’s murky origins than Yuno herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea tried to grow angry, even if just to feel something other than confused, but she couldn’t bring herself to resent Nadia. Nadia was prim and perfect and oh so fine. Everything about her reminded Medea of a delicately woven tapestry. Not a strand out of place. Even when she spoke, she always seemed to know exactly what she wanted to say, even if it was something not everyone wanted to hear. Medea couldn’t fault her for telling the truth. Medea couldn’t fault her for anything, really. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nadia seemed to notice Medea’s staring at her and so she took it upon herself to break the silence. Finally, she said something Medea wanted to hear, even if Medea herself hadn’t known she wanted it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever the case, I think you are the girl’s mother. Be it in spirit or in blood.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea’s eyes widen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nadia continues. “It’s clear the child thinks of you as her mother and it’s equally clear that you feel something for the child. Either way, that makes you the child’s mother, in my eyes at least. And it does help that you look quite alike. No one would question it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But even if I am her mother, I’m not sure I’m, you know, good enough.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nadia seems annoyed now, raising an eyebrow and pursing her lips. “I never said you should take care of the child, not if you don’t want to. You being her mother makes you responsible for her happiness, and if you think </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yuno </span>
  </em>
  <span>would be happiest here, at Pleasant Garden, then so be it. But one shouldn’t doddle in such matters. The longer you put off the decision, the worse the heartbreak will be for you both.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The countess certainly doesn’t pull any punches, does she? Medea knew the answer, knew what she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do. The problem was what she</span>
  <em>
    <span> should</span>
  </em>
  <span> do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re right, countess” Medea finally answered. “I...I don’t know if I really am Yuno’s mother… but I know I want to be. Even if it’s hard. Even if I have to do it on my own. I still want to make her happy and… well, she seems happiest when she’s with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The countess smiled like a cat with a canary. “Good, good,” she said. “Now that you’ve decided </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I feel safe in telling you my true feelings.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A quizzical look crossed both Medea and Portia’s faces. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nadia then used her beautiful, wine-colored eyes to stare Medea down. “I think Yuno is indeed your daughter, by blood and whatever other biology binds you,” she said evenly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, why countess?!” asked Portia eagerly, cutting in before Medea can even think up a response. “I mean, other than the obvious,” Portia continued, “why do you think Yuno must be her daughter?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea wonders why Portia is suddenly so invested in all of this, but she can’t spare the brain power to think about it when answers are so close at hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, apart from the obvious, of course, the timelines match up rather pleasingly. The child can’t be older than five and you,” Nadia looked at Medea, “lost your memories about three years ago, didn’t you say. If that’s the case, then it would make sense why you have no recollection of the girl, but she does of you…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea chewed on that for a moment. Could she have truly raised Yuno for years and then suddenly forget all about her? Wouldn’t she have felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, at least, even a little inkling of the loss? Of the missing piece of her life? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And how did Asra fit into all of this? If he had known her for years, certainly he would have known if she had a daughter! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But Asra,” Medea said then, “Asra would have told me if I had a daughter! Well, if he knew I had one, he would have.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nadia drew back, thinking for a moment. “Yes, from what little I’ve heard and seen of him, he seems like the upright type. Perhaps even he did not know, then. Perhaps Yuno was your secret love child after all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That made Medea blanche. She had thought about that as well. “I don’t think I could have hidden her for that long. Asra’s rather… </span>
  <em>
    <span>observant</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He would have known if I had a child living with me for two years or longer. And that’s not even counting the pregnancy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, I see.” Nadia’s eyes turned pensive and far-off, almost as if she were trying to solve a riddle in her head. “Maybe Yuno didn’t live with you then. Maybe you gave her away, but still visited her enough to leave your mark.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, that seems plausible</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Medea thought. “But I don’t know who I would have given her away to?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nadia blinked. “You have amnesia, my dear. Of course you wouldn’t remember. Especially if Asra was the one that taught you everything you now know. How can he teach you what he does not himself know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That made the possibility of Yuno being Medea’s trueborn daughter startling real. And for some reason, Medea didn’t want it to be… because if she acknowledged that, then she would have to face the fact that she abandoned her own child…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What else, countess?” Medea said, feeling like she was grasping at straws, grasping at ways to doubt what Nadia was saying. “What else makes you think Yuno is my daughter? My </span>
  <em>
    <span>biological </span>
  </em>
  <span>daughter?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nadia let her spine rest against the back of her chair and took one last sip of her tea. “Intuition, I suppose. I seem to have a… </span>
  <em>
    <span>knack </span>
  </em>
  <span>for such things, as you may very well know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Medea’s turn to be incredulous now. “So you’re saying you dreamed this? Dreamed that I was a mother?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. I haven’t dreamed about you since contracting you into investigating the count’s death. But I do sense something about you and the girl. Something strong, like a bond. Like magic, even. You feel it too, don’t you?” Nadia said, bringing a hand to her chest. “Right here? Like something tugging you... ”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Medea’s startled expression was answer enough. Nadia smiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, with that settled, Medea decided to pose an even more daring question. One she hadn’t even allowed herself to think about with all the others swirling in her mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And could you, possibly, intuit who the father is, m’Lady?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nadias mouth flattened into a straight line. “That, I could not say. Though,” she said, reaching out toward Yuno and taking a braided lock between her fingers, “the child’s hair does seem a tad redder than yours. Or it might just be because it’s lacking your distinctive highlights.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Portia looked terribly aghast, Medea did not realize, for Medea was having her own crisis of faith. Her faith in anything Asra had told her, that is. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Naughty Crow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She should have known better. Should have realized that it wasn’t as easy as a kiss on the head. Why had she ever trusted Asra in the first place? It was all a stupid trick. A white lie, he would say, and one to make her feel better. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well she didn’t feel better. She felt much the worse, in fact. And though she knew she shouldn’t let such a “little” thing bother it, it did. It truly, truly did. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>How many times would he dismiss her? Tell her what to want and why to want it? She knew it was only hair, but it <em> wasn’t only hair. </em>No, it was so, so many things. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her memories, her life before, all the secrets he kept and kept keeping. He said it was to keep her from hurting herself, and she did trust that he really thought that, but for how long would he keep her guarded? Keep himself guarded around her? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It felt like everyday a new secret threatened to slip from his lips, forcing him to run away from her. When things were hard or she was angry or even when she wanted so dearly to be near him, he ran away. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had told her he loved her once. She remembered that, though she could not place exactly when or where he had said it. But it was fresh on her mind unlike the other scant memories she had. He<em> had </em> loved her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Medea resolved not to think about that now. It was useless to rile herself up over something she hadn’t noticed for days. She sighed slowly, exhaling all the breath in her body. A weary smile appeared over her face. <em> And I had really thought he glamoured me. I’m the bigger fool.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuno tugged at Medea’s skirts then, alerting her to the approaching Portia. They were all outside now, each having said their formal goodbyes when they left the manor house. Portia and Nadia weren’t finished with Pleasant Garden just yet, though. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Portia waved and Medea waved back. Medea could see Nadia off in the distance, discussing something with the head of the orphanage. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Portia appeared more sheepish as usual as she held out a folded piece of paper. “I, uh, I just wanted to say that if you ever need any help with anything, feel free to come to me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea graciously accepted the note. “Oh, thank you, Portia. I really appreciate it.” Medea then began to unfold the note, though Portia quickly seized her hands. Medea was surprised by the short woman’s strength. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ack! Not here, please!” Portia then eyed her surroundings carefully, leaning in close to speak to Medea. “That’s uh, just where you can find Ilya. I mean, if he’s not at his usual place. You’ve met him there before, haven’t you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Ilya? </em>Medea almost asked, but then remembered. “The, uh, Naughty Crow, wasn’t it?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Rowdy Raven,” Portia corrected. “But it’s probably best to visit him at this address. No sense in taking a child to a place like that is there?” Portia smiled, though she soon saw the bewildered look on Medea’s face and continued with, “He may not be much, but he’s still a doctor, and he’s not really in a place to be charging patients right now. If anything happens to Yuno, you can always take her to him and he’ll always be ready to treat her.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, uh, thank you, again, Portia. This, well… I’m sure he’ll be very helpful if anything happens. Thank you again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Portia let go of Medea’s hands and allowed Medea to stuff the note away into the pocket of her apron. Portia shook her head. “He’s not quite what he seems and I know that you don’t have much reason to trust me on this, but I know that he would never hurt anyone. Not intentionally. He hasn’t the heart for it. So believe me when I say that he only wants to help people.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea paused for a moment before saying, “I believe you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Portia’s face instantly lit up and Medea could swear that Portia was about to wrap her arms around her and squeeze. Medea smiled down at the diminutive woman. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good, hopefully we can figure out something between the two of us to get this all straightened out,” Portia said, making Medea regret her three words of solidarity rather quickly. She still wasn’t certain about Julian, but she was sure he wouldn’t hurt her. As he currently was, he was far too inept for that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But in the meantime,” Portia tacked on, “I think it might be best if you went and saw him, even if Yuno is healthy as an ox. I think,” Portia’s face began to pinken, “Well, there might be things you two should discuss. He might even have some answers you’re looking for.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea raised an eyebrow. Just what could she have to gain from speaking to Julian? Aside from the obvious intrigue, of course. “I’m not sure I understand, Portia.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Portia looked incredibly flustered now. “I mean, well, it would just give me peace of mind to know you two had spoken… and that he had seen Yuno. And he might know a way to confirm that Yuno is really your biological daughter, if you even still want to know, of course.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea gave pause. “He...He might know a way to tell for sure? How?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Portia shrugged exaggeratedly. “I don’t know how, but if anyone knew, it would be Ilya. Just, uh, have a chat with him some time, even if only for my sake.” The red haired woman beamed up at Medea. She was just too cute to refuse. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea sighed. “All right, but you have to tell me something in return.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatever you wish!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, then, I want to know why you and the countess are here today? And why didn’t you want to tell me when we met earlier?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Portia twiddled her thumbs and pursed her mouth before spilling the beans. “Weeeeellll, you seeeee,” she said in a sing-songy fashion, “Mistress actually funded this place herself. She’s the sole benefactress, and she comes by every once in a while to check up on things. All in secret, of course. That’s why I’m the only one here right now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But-But I heard--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Portia gave a cheeky smile. “Heard that the place was started by some widow who lost all her children to the plague? That was just a story Mistress made-up to make the elite more apt to donate to causes like this. The upper classes are always competing to show off who has the most wealth, Mistress says. Having a cover story also makes it easier for Mistress to do as she pleases without the courtiers getting in the way, since this would technically be seen as a ‘public good’ and therefore part of their domain.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea gave a bemused “Hm!” She wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that the Countess of Vesuvia could essentially create a story and spend the Vesuvian coin however she pleased--even if it was in an altruistic way--but at least these orphans had homes. Hopefully The countess would live many uncorrupted years yet, as Medea didn’t know if the next head of the state would be as kind with their coin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I never knew the countess liked children,” Medea finally said. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Portia nodded, glancing back over her shoulder at the countess. The redhead looked like a lovesick puppy. “She finds them interesting, she says. She can’t quite predict what they’ll do, I think, and she likes the not-knowing of it all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I guess I would too if I was her,” answered Medea.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>&gt;&gt;&gt;</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had certainly not been Medea’s intention to take her child to the Rowdy Raven, but, alas, here she was. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea had been carrying Yuno on her back the whole walk and the little girl was starting to weigh on her. Or, at least, the day’s events were, as Medea was ungodly tired. She couldn’t even place why. Perhaps it was simply all this newfound weight on her shoulders. Responsibility could be quite exhausting she found. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before entering the Raven, Medea squatted down to the ground and allowed Yuno to get off. Medea would have let Yuno walk the whole way there, and the girl had seemed keen to do it, but Medea didn’t trust herself not to lose Yuno. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuno had grown adventurous in these last hours, with her appetite for trouble waxing just as Medea’s energy was waning. Medea had tried to leave Yuno in the care of a trusted neighbor, one of her best patrons actually, but Yuno wasn’t having it. Yuno threw the biggest, teariest, most frenetic tantrum yet. Medea felt as though she had no choice but to take Yuno to the Rowdy Raven now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea had considered trying to approach Julian at the address Portia gave her, but she wasn’t sure if she trusted Julian enough to be alone with him yet. Better to meet in a public place. Medea also already knew where the Rowdy Raven was, having visited there only a week before. That was when she got to watch Julian be brought to his knees by his sister’s unnaturally strong grip on his earlobe. He hadn’t looked like he could harm a housefly, then, but who knows what he was like when he was in his lair. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Medea was almost certain he lived in a lair of some sort. Not a home, but a lair. And Medea was most certainly <em> not </em>bringing Yuno to his lair. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She looked down at Yuno then. Her girl had a strange look on her face. Something like mad joy, only more erratic. Yuno was obviously pleased at the prospect of going into the Rowdy Raven and brushing elbows with some of its patrons. Medea could already tell this was going to be an ordeal. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yuno, here, sweetlove,” Medea beckoned her and bent a knee to meet her at her height. Medea then retrieved what looked to be a long, finely woven silver chain. There were loops on either end and Medea put one loop around her left wrist while looping the other end around Yuno’s right hand. Now they were chained together, quite literally. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea then took Yuno’s hand and entered the Raven. It was loud and warm and smelled quite heavily of mead. Yuno seemed to quite appreciate the atmosphere. Medea scanned the place for Julian’s rather unique face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She found him sitting in a corner booth. He looked drunker than he ought, though that wasn’t saying much. Medea approached him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I hope you don’t mind if I sit down,” she said, both to catch his attention as well as a transparent ploy to find herself some seating. She was quite tired after all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Julian raised his head, his lone eye widening as he took her in. She smiled up at her, looking madder than a hatter. He was about to speak when he noticed Yuno. Yuno’s appearance as well as her stature spoke for her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was obvious that Yuno was her child. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Julian squinted, eye darting back and forth between their faces until finally he smiled and said, “Why, I never knew you had a sister!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not. She also didn’t know whether to correct him or not. She wasn’t even sure what to call Yuno. Yuno was most definitely her charge, blood relation or no, but the resemblance complicated things.  How could she correct him when she wasn’t even sure what Yuno was to her? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her family, yes. But adopted or biological, she did not know. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea suddenly felt as though the whole room was spinning. A dizzy spell, but not like the ones she got when she remembered too much of her past. No, this was different. Instead of feeling overwhelmed and overfull, she felt completely drained. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She truly felt as though she were about to faint, but then a steadying hand came to her back and helped her back onto her feet. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ohohoh, don’t go fainting on me now, I haven’t even bought you dinner yet!”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>&gt;&gt;&gt;</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Julian steepled his fingers together and looked at her rather gravely through them. She wondered just what he must think of her story. Surely, it wasn’t much more of a suspension of disbelief than her believing that he truly didn’t remember if he killed the count or not. All the same, she was still eager to hear his thoughts. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have one question,” he said, raising his index finger to indicate the number of questions he had as if she didn’t know what the word “one” meant. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He pointed to Yuno’s arm. “Is your child on a leash?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuno was standing beside the table doing an interpretive dance of the fiddle music playing not too far in the distance. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea suddenly wished she had stayed at home tonight. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, yes. She is.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He nodded, leaning back into his seat. His right knee peeked out over the tabletop as he shifted his crossed legs. “I see,” he said, looking somewhat relieved. “I had thought I was imagining it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you usually imagine such things?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I imagine any number of strange and tantalizing things, though most stay within the realm of my dreams. Others, however, peek out into reality and make me doubt myself even more than I already do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It truly was a wonder that Julian was a doctor and not a stage performer, seeing as he so clearly reveled in melodrama. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea sighed and leaned forward onto the table, brushing her empty plate away. (He really had bought her dinner. Yuno and her both.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, what do you think?” she said. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What about?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea glanced over to Yuno. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Julian rubbed his chin, beginning to look quite serious again. “Well, you certainly look alike.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Tell me something I don’t know, doctor.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Anything else?” Medea asked, now rather desperate. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His brow twitched. “Hmm, I do think she might have a language delay. Being around four or five, she should have a better grasp of speech, I should think.” He then shrugged, waving a hand. “But I wouldn’t worry over it much. Worrying only makes the problem worse, from what I’ve seen.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea raises her eyebrows at that. She was surprised he could make such a good point while being so far into his cups. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He took another swig from his pint. “Aside from that, she seems healthy as a horse, given that horse was especially healthy.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And you can tell that just from looking at her?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m a doctor, not a fortune-teller, but by all accounts she seems healthy. You on the other hand…” he trailed off and took the opportunity to change is tone into something a little more softening, “...Well, you look as though you could use a good night’s rest. Have you been getting enough sleep?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Perhaps if she <em> hadn’t </em>actually been getting a good night’s rest she wouldn’t be so offended, but seeing as she was she couldn’t help but take his words to heart. She smoothed her braids, now all too aware of the grey and white hairs that had grown in since they last saw each other. Had he noticed how much more she had now? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My hair is just like this. It’s not any sort of stress. It’s just greying and I don’t know why,” she answered defeatedly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Julian gave her a bewildered look. He appeared more puzzled by what she had just said than by any of what she had already told him about Yuno. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your hair, my dear, is beautiful,” he said, leaning forward. “It’s your eyes that worry me. They look utterly drained. Really, are you all right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea’s face burned and her heart began to race in her chest. How could his one eye hold such depth, such emotion that it drove her to distraction just looking at him. And when he spoke, so deeply yet so softly, she could feel a buzzing in her head. Why was he treating her so...so… kindly? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I-I’m fine,” she replied after composing herself. She was looking anywhere but at that lone eye of his. He almost certainly noticed. “I suppose I am a little tired, though. I sleep fine, but it feels like by the end of the day I all but drag myself to bed. I don’t know why.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The weight of being a single-mother, I’d say. It can’t be easy to be so good at it.” He smiled at her and she wished he would stop. Stop the smiling, stop the soothing voice, stop every soft thing about him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not anywhere close to being ‘good at it,’ Julian. I’ve already lost three years with her and I didn’t even realize it. I doubt anyone would call that being a ‘good mother.’” Medea sank into her seat, half sleepy, half wanting to disappear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>To Medea’s great surprise, though, Yuno then finished her dancing and crawled into her lap. Yuno gathered herself up and rested her head atop Medea’s apron very much like a dog would. Julian smiled over at both of them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think I know one person that would,” he said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She doesn’t count. She doesn’t have anyone else to compare me to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s exactly right. You’re all she has, Medea. No matter what you do, she’ll always love you precisely because <em> you </em>are her mother. The only one she has. So you might as well be the best.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea was sure what he was saying wouldn’t sound nearly so good in the morning. It was late and they were both tired. But his words truly did make her feel <em> nice, </em>even if just for a moment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She pet her daughter’s hair, brushing those familiar auburn locks away from that small, diminutive face. “I wonder if she misses her father. She’s never mentioned him, so I doubt she knew him. I know I don’t.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He must have been someone you loved, even if just for a short time. Loving unions produce the most loving offspring,” he said, almost matter of factly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Medea’s smile fades. “Even without any memories, I’m sure I didn’t love him. If I had loved him, I would have told him about Yuno and I really don’t think I did.” It’s then that the realization cuts through her like a knife. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> No, </em> she thought, <em> I would have told him.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s no way she would have kept such a massive secret from him. No way she could have. He would have known. He had to. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because Asra always knew everything.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you guys for reading! Hopefully I'll be able to put out more chapter bombs soon. Also I wrote this at 3 AM without a BETA reader and Julian is a clown because I think clowns are sexy apparently</p>
<p>I'll go ahead and mention again that I love any comments/critiques/criticisms you guys might have! Also feel free to check me out on tumblr at<br/>https://aishiterusan.tumblr.com/</p>
<p>I have more art and arcana content there. I also love talking with the fandom so if you message me that will make my day lmaoooo</p>
<p>anyway, smooches! :D</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>At the end here with drawing i did of my OC Medea</p><p>you can find more arcana content and art on my tumblr here<br/>https://aishiterusan.tumblr.com/</p><p>I love talking and gushing with you guys so feel free to shoot me any sort of message there!!! thanks again!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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